Had Dream Renwell been referring to my siblings? All the more reason to get to them sooner. Kill the nightmare, as Frieda had said.
I shoved open the fur flap. Sunlight pierced my skull like a spear, and I groaned. Gods-damned Dags and their mead and their wild funerals.
The day seemed closer to noon than dawn. Yet a few Dags still laid about on blankets. Others sat and smoked pipes and chatted with neighbors.
Steaming pots hung over the ever-present fires tended by men and women alike. I recognized a tall, willowy figure and made my way over to Nikella.
Her scarred arms were bare over the heat of the fire. She expertly stirred whatever was in the pot, her focused expression aligning the deep scar that bisected her face. Without her usual long-hooded robe, she looked more like a warrior than a Teacher. But I supposed all Rellmiran Teachers used to be warriors before Father had outlawed fighting instruction.
I wondered if Nikella had obeyed that particular law.
She glanced up at me, and for a moment, her stern look reminded me of her brother.
“Hungry?” she asked.
I nodded. “And thirsty.”
She pointed to a bucket of water. Hopefully not the same bucket I’d vomited in the night before.
I ladled myself a sip.
Cold, clean water washed over my bitter tongue. I gulped more and more. It tasted amazing. Like the freshness of the air, but in water.
“There’s tooth powder if you need some of that, too,” Nikella said, ladling what looked like porridge into two bowls. “I mixed it up this morning.”
I picked up the satchel of glittery pale green powder. I rubbed a pinch over my teeth, appreciating the hard flecks that scraped away the grime. A minty taste bloomed in my mouth.
I spat and rinsed, then joined Nikella on a worn log. She handed me a bowl and spoon, and we ate in silence. The porridge was good. Thick and creamy, with a hint of cinnamon and apple. It helped settle my stomach.
A few Yargoths passed and greeted Nikella, who offered each one some of her porridge. They took it gladly and went on their way.
I wanted to ask her about Aiden and where he was. About Renwell and what they planned to do concerning the ships at Calimber. But really, I only needed to ask her one thing.
“Will you draw me a map?” I asked as we watched the Dags go about their day. “Of a path from here to Aquinon by foot.”
She scraped her bowl clean and ate her final bite without changing expression. “What are you going to do in Aquinon?”
I bit my lip. At least she hadn’t outright dismissed me. “Find my brother and sister and get them out.”
“Alone?”
I twirled my spoon in my porridge. “Yes.”
She tilted her head to stare at me. I’d seen her giving the same look to Aiden and Maz. As if she could read their minds and souls through their eyes.
I tried not to fidget as I held her gaze.
She finally nodded. “I will draw the map for you.”
I blinked in surprise. “You aren’t going to stop me?”
“You are aware of the danger that awaits you. You know the likelihood of your success.” She lifted her eyes to the cloudless sky. “I’ve only ever asked the gods for one favor: to choose howI die. I would not begrudge someone else’s desire to choose their own fate.” Her eyes pierced me once more. “You have your reasons, after all.”
“I do,” I murmured, my grip tightening on my bowl. Why had she asked the Four for such a thing? And was she so sure that I would die in my attempt to free Everett and Delysia?
“Renwell won’t kill me,” I said, almost desperately. As if I could convince her that my goal wasn’t completely foolish. “You knew he wouldn’t kill you because you’re his sister. Well, he had a chance to kill me when we escaped, and he didn’t. He might?—”
“Care for you?” Nikella’s voice sharpened. “It’s not affection that keeps him from killing us. It’s his need to control, his need to play a game with our lives. He never removes a piece from the board unless it’s no longer of use to him. There’s no telling when that thread of control will snap.”
